Burning
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Yuki’s POV- a one shot. Haru corners Yuki in the halls.


Burning   
**Author:** Celeste  
**Pairing:** Haru/Yuki  
**Rating:** PG-13 for yaoi themes.   
**Feedback:** keviesprincess@netscape.net(flames welcome because they make me laugh.)  
**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine. If they were, there'd be more gratuitous Haru/Yuki groping, dammit!   
**Summary:** Yuki's POV- a one shot. Haru corners Yuki in the halls.   
**A/N:** Well, I guess this _sort_ of could be a companion fic to my first Fruits Basket story, "Touched." But you don't really need to read that one to read this one, since this one is just PWP. It's a bit…suggestive, I guess but that's about it.   
**Dedication:** To Anrui and Mel again, because this is one pairing they really don't get to see enough of. I'm glad you guys let me help end the drought a little, ne?  
Distribution: Just ask and you'll probably get it. 

  


* * *

  
His eyes are burning, twin fires of unrestrained lust as he stares down at me, my chin cupped in his hand like the rest of me belongs there too.

It's just like that day…

…that day beneath the bridge… 

I am disgusted by the brazen look he is lavishing me with, eyes raking along my body like it he owns it and he will take it however he wishes at any second. 

I am disgusted.

Wrenching my chin from the firm hold of his fingertips, my hands splayed away from him, I avert my eyes, silently turning my head to the side. 

To reject him.

But he has no propriety, no sense of boundaries. He is unfazed. 

I hear him chuckle low in his throat at the futility of my actions, seductively close to the ear I have presented him with. He breathes into it, brushing his cheek, feather-light against mine, a teasing caress. "You want me to touch you, Yuki," he murmurs in deep tones, voice thick with harsh sensuality.

I shudder at that, move to turn my back and walk away from him, away from this degradation, this sinfully base presentation he has made of himself.

All the while I tell myself that it is improper. It is wrong.

He stops me from escaping, pins me by pushing his knee against the wall in front of me, cornering me between his legs. 

I scowl at him, concentrate on scowling hard enough so that the iciness in my eyes will chill him, will distract him.

To keep him from noticing the way my body shivers when he breathes like that into my ear. 

When he surrounds me. 

I swallow, bid myself to calm the rapid dancing of my heart, the fluttering sensation in my lungs. "Haru, stop," I warn him.

My voice is weak. 

I hear him laugh again, throatily, a rasp that raises a line of gooseflesh up and down my arms. He takes my chin in hand and forces me to face him again.

There is triumph in his eyes. 

Because he sees desire in mine. 

"Yuki," he murmurs, leaning forward, lips a breath away from touching my cheek.

I can feel his hair tickle the corner of my eye when he inhales, a deep, satisfied sound as he breathes my scent, a bloodhound on the hunt. "Let me touch you," he growls, pleads, purrs against me, my frame trapped between his and the wall. 

I shudder again, as his words brush against me, breath causing the hair beside my ear to sway, backwards and then forwards upon skin already too warm. I feel myself flush hotly, and frantic at the image that this presents in my mind, I know I need to draw away. Now. 

I try to tear my jaw from the incessant heat of his fingers, to pull away and become cold again, so that the fire in his eyes will stop consuming me and I can move on, alone. Beyond him. I fail, because his cheek is suddenly flush against mine as he leans forward and sighs softly, nuzzling against me in an almost tender gesture.

His hold on my chin loosens suddenly, and I feel his right hand move up to cup the opposite side of my face, gently drawing back the hair that has fallen into it and tucking it behind my ear. 

I begin to shake.

"Please," he whispers, fingertips lingering on my blushing cheek even as I feel his free hand come up to grasp my shoulder firmly. 

I shouldn't be forced to endure this.

I shouldn't have to suffer the swings between sweetness and the inferno, between this black and that white. The looks of love and the looks of hot desire. 

I shouldn't want to. 

"Haru, don't…" I manage to croak out, my voice nearly gone, my resolve with it. 

He is touching me, I can feel it on a hundred thousand nerve endings, feel it solid and unremitting and burning even though I cannot see his eyes any more. 

But I don't need to see. 

I can feel. 

I can feel his fingers stroking my cheek, up and down, the way his hand slightly shakes as it does, anticipatory, afraid, reverent. 

I can feel his breath, thick and heavy against my ear, moving the hair there ever so slightly as he inhales and exhales, a back and forth dance that tickles my skin, teasing me with his maddening nearness.

I can feel his eyelashes as they flutter gently against my face, the soft pressure of his cheek flush against mine in a gesture too gentle to be all Black. 

I can feel the grip his left hand has on my shoulder as he squeezes, can feel the lines of his hips as he uses them to incase me, brushing the edges of my legs through my uniform. 

I can feel.

I begin to shake again, afraid, so afraid because this shouldn't be happening. 

I shouldn't let it. 

I open my mouth to refuse again, to try and freeze myself cold, but no words break through. Instead, a noise strange to my ears erupts from my throat. 

A strangled whimper is all I can force out.

I stand there, shivering under his touch, afraid, ashamed, whimpering. 

Ecstatic. 

Anticipating.

Wanting.

He sighs against me again, leaning forward that much more, relaxing so that I am no longer corralled by his legs. 

Instead of trapping me, they rest against me now, close enough that I can feel their warmth through our clothing. 

"Please, let me touch you," he whispers again, almost begging. I can feel the butterfly motions of his eyelashes still, and know that his eyes are closed shut against my cheek, his breaths coming slower now, calming in time with my slowly decelerating pulse as he relaxes slightly. 

"Haru…" I manage, still protesting, still wanting to leave the circle of his touch because my insides are screaming for it and I know that somehow it must be wrong. 

"Please," he repeats, more forcefully this time, the hand resting against my face moving down to cup my throat, fingers curling against the hair upon the nape of my neck possessively. 

I shiver, this contact so unfamiliar, so outside the realm of my existence that I wonder distantly if it is dangerous. 

Addicting. 

A dependency.

A vice. 

I cannot accept it. 

I can't. 

I can't let myself develop another weakness.

Especially not one like this. 

Not him.

I regain my strength as desperation sinks into me, in tandem with my thoughts, fear overpowering my baser desires. I place my hands upon his arms suddenly, grasping the slack material along the sleeves of his school uniform in hasty bunches between my fingers. 

The fear brings back my strength. The disgust, the self-loathing, the shame. They all bring back my strength. They make me strong.

I throw him off.

I throw him away.

He is on the ground now, looking up at me, the fire half gone from his eyes, as if the loss of contact has jolted him backwards. 

The fire is half gone.

But still there.

We are both still panting, flushed, trembling. 

I turn briskly, my hair falling back into my eyes like a shield between us as I try to regain my breath. I straighten my shirt, adjust my tie to their previous state of perfection.

Walk away.

"Why?" I hear him whisper after me as I retreat.

I dare a glance over my shoulder to where he rests, tossed onto the floor. He stares blankly at the wall, to the place where he had held me, touched me, for a fleeting moment just one second ago. 

I turn away, walk away, alone. 

Why indeed. 

We both know I could have freed myself the very moment he attempted to entrap me. Because I have always been the strongest.

Why, then?

I don't know.

My hands are shaking. My breaths are labored. 

I can still feel fire where he touched me. 

**END**


End file.
